CHAPTER ONE 1867-1
2041 Words
CHAPTER ONE
1867“The Mother Superior wants you, Venetia!”
Lady Venetia Brook looked up from her studies.
“What can she want me about, Eugenie? I have so much to do. I will never finish by tomorrow.”
“She did not say. She just said, ‘go and fetch Lady Venetia as quickly as possible’.”
Venetia rose from her desk and put aside the work she was completing for a special lesson.
She was determined to make her teacher, who was an experienced man of letters, impressed by her research.
However the Mother Superior took precedence over everyone else and so Venetia hurried along the corridor to the Mother Superior’s room at the far end of the building.
The Convent School for Young Ladies in Paris was the most outstanding in the whole of Europe and Venetia, who was the Duke of Lynbrook’s daughter, had gone there when she was sixteen.
She was enjoying herself enormously, finding it so different from being taught at home by a not particularly well-educated Governess.
The Mother Superior’s room was bathed in sunlight and it was reflected on the huge crucifix that dominated what was otherwise a comfortable sitting room.
The Mother Superior rose from behind her desk as Venetia entered.
“I have rather surprising news for you, my child!”
Venetia bobbed a curtsy to the Mother Superior, as was expected of her.
“What is it, ma’am?” she enquired expectantly. “I cannot believe it is news from home, because I had a letter from Papa only two days ago.”
“But it is news from home,” the Mother Superior smiled. “In fact I have just received an urgent letter from your father, saying you are to return immediately.”
Venetia stared at her incredulous.
“Return to England! But why? Whatever for?”
The Mother Superior looked down at the letter she held in her hand.
“Your father does not give any reason. He merely says you are to return at once and he will be waiting for you at your London house in Berkeley Square.”
Venetia drew in her breath.
“I cannot imagine what has happened or why Papa should suddenly wish me to leave before the end of term.”
“I expect he has a good reason and naturally, my child, you must obey his command.”
“I think it is so tiresome to be taken away just now, when I have so much I want to do here.”
She was speaking almost to herself rather than the Mother Superior.
“You know as well as I do, my child, that you have stayed on longer than is usual. Although we have enjoyed having you and you have been a tremendous help to me in many ways, I really cannot question your father’s decision in wanting you home.”
“If that was the only reason, I would understand it,” said Venetia. “But you know how busy Papa is. He has a great many obligations in the country and seldom, if he can help it, goes to London.”
“Well, His Grace is obviously in London now and we must do exactly as he says. I will make arrangements for you to leave early tomorrow morning by train.”
“That will hardly give me time to say ‘goodbye’ to everybody,” Venetia sighed. “I suppose there will be no chance of coming back to stay until the end of the term?”
The Mother Superior smiled.
“I hardly think that your father, if he needs you so urgently, will want you to return. Although, my child, we shall miss you very much, you know as well as I do that you should have left at the end of last summer.”
“I know, and it was very kind of you to keep me. I have loved every moment of the extra lessons you have arranged for me. I am really quite an expert now, not only on Classical Music but on portraiture and the History of Europe and other subjects not in the usual curriculum.”
The Mother Superior laughed.
“I am so very glad! The Professors you have been studying these extra subjects with are very particular and demanding. As I said to Sister Ignatius only the other day, they are far more trouble than the pupils.”
Now Venetia laughed.
“They may well be! But they are so clever and they know so much that I have enjoyed every second of being with them.”
“I know, and they have enjoyed teaching you. Now go and start packing, my child. I will send Sister Marie Barnard with you as she has more experience in travelling than the majority of the nuns.”
“I would just love to have her with me. She is a walking mine of information and will doubtless instruct me during the journey. I will now go to pack, but I shall feel, ma’am, like crying because I have to leave you.”
She did not wait for the Mother Superior to reply, but gave her a little curtsy and left the room.
The Mother Superior sighed.
She was very fond of Venetia and she had been a credit to the school, but at the same time she was well aware that Venetia was too old to be shut up with a lot of younger girls.
She should be taking her place in the Social world that was waiting for her in London.
Venetia herself, however, was not looking forward to arriving in London.
She said ‘goodbye’ to Paris as the train carried her and Sister Marie to the English Channel.
They had a courier to look after them to make sure that Venetia had the best cabin once they reached the ferry.
He had been wise enough to arrange for them to travel on a ferry to the Tower of London rather than one that berthed at Dover.
The ferry was somewhat crowded, but the cabin was comfortable enough for her and Sister Marie.
They arrived in London at ten o’clock the following morning.
And as soon as they had descended the gangway, Venetia saw one of her father’s servants in the Lynbrook livery waiting for her.
“It be good to see you back, my Lady,” he said and Venetia smiled at him.
As he collected all her luggage from the courier, she bade farewell to Sister Marie.
“It was so kind of you to come with me, Sister. I only wish I was coming back with you. I shall miss you all so much and all my marvellous lessons.”
“And we shall miss you, but I am sure that now you will shine in the Social world, just as you shone in ours!”
“I think it most unlikely! Please give my love to everybody and thank you again for bringing me here.”
She kissed Sister Marie and then, having thanked the courier, she walked away to where her father’s carriage stood waiting.
She had rather hoped that Papa himself might meet her, but there was nobody else there.
The luggage was piled on the back of the carriage and the horses moved off.
As they drove on through the streets, Venetia looked out at the houses, the shops and the people, thinking how different in every way they were from those in France.
Because her mother was dead and her father was exceedingly busy, she had only come home twice in the three years she had been at the Convent school in Paris.
Being very popular, she had had many invitations to stay with the other girls and she had gone from one grand château to another every holiday.
Now she was back home and what she was looking forward to more than anything else was the country.
Riding her father’s superb horses had always been her favourite enjoyment since she was a small child.
She had not, however, altogether missed her riding in Paris as she had been able to ride three or four times a week in the Bois de Boulogne.
Equally she told herself as they drew nearer to the house in Berkeley Square, she really loved her home, and she knew that she must persuade her father as soon as possible to take her to the country.
It was agonising to know that her beloved Mama would not be there and she would miss her in every room and particularly in the flower garden.
Her Mama, though beautiful, had never been very strong and had died at the beginning of the second year that Venetia was at school.
It had hurt Venetia more than anything else that she had not been allowed to come home for the funeral.
She could easily understand that her father had felt that it would be upsetting for her, but at the same time she had wanted to say ‘goodbye’ to her Mama in a way she could not in a foreign land.
All her fervent prayers in the Convent Chapel were in no way the same as if she had been able to pray in the little village Church where she had been christened and confirmed and had worshipped every Sunday since she was a small child.
The carriage drew up outside Lynbrook House in Berkeley Square.
A footman hurriedly pulled a red carpet across the pavement and opened the door of the carriage – he was a man she knew well, who had been with them a long time.
Venetia smiled at him.
“It’s so nice to see you, Henry.”
“You’ve taken the very words out of me mouth, my Lady.”
Venetia went into the hall and held out her hand to the old grey-haired butler.
“If you were not here, Bates,” she said, “I should think I had come to the wrong house.”
“You are a real sight for sore eyes, my Lady. It’s too long since we’ve seen you.”
“Is my father here?” enquired Venetia.
“His Grace is waiting for you in the study and a little impatient because you are later than expected.”
“Only an hour or two. The sea was rather stormy this morning and that is what delayed us.”
She knew, however, that it would irritate her father if he had to wait for her – he had always been a stickler for everything to be done as precisely as he ordered.
Even when she was small, Venetia knew that if she was even a few minutes late, her father would be angry and she had learnt to slide down the banisters to avoid being reprimanded if he was waiting for her to join him at a meal.
As they walked towards the study, she was longing to ask Bates, who always knew everything in the house, why she had been brought home.
But Bates was walking more quickly than usual, so there was no chance for her to have a word with him.
He opened the study door and then announced in his usual stentorian voice,
“Her Ladyship, Your Grace!”
The Duke of Lynbrook rose from the writing desk.
At a first glance Venetia realised that his hair was far whiter than it had been when she had last seen him. She also thought there were more lines on his face and he looked older than somehow she had expected.
She ran towards him.
He kissed her on both cheeks before he exclaimed,
“You are late! What kept you?”
“It was not me, but the sea! I am sorry, Papa, but unless I had wings I could not have come any quicker.”
“Well, you are here and that is what matters.”
He walked as he spoke towards the mantelpiece and Venetia followed him.
Then, as he turned and stood with his back to it, she automatically sat down in one of the armchairs.
She knew of old that when her father took up that particular position, he was either going to give her a lecture or impart important information.
Because he was silent for a moment, she pulled off her hat and tidied her hair as well as she could, before she sat back in the armchair.
As her father still did not speak, Venetia piped up,
“I am waiting, Papa, to hear why you sent for me in such a hurry. I didn’t even have time to say ‘goodbye’ to my friends.
“My packing was done in such a rush that I warn you I shall need quite a number of the things I was forced to leave behind!”
She was talking impulsively simply to relieve the tension mounting between her and her father.
Yet instinctively she knew that he was finding it difficult to say what was on his mind.
He was looking at her in a strange way that was disconcerting. What she could not know was that he was thinking that she was even more beautiful than her mother had been at the same age.
Finally he began rather slowly,
“I have asked you, Venetia, to come here for a very important and special reason.”
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